You Take Me To And Lead Me Through Oblivion
by ahiddenbanshee
Summary: There was another who benefitted from the Convergence. A being whose crimes were committed in the name of loyalty and love. A being who always saw a cunning king, never an unfit abonimation. One whose connection to a god stretched far and wide across the nine realms, and never threatened to fracture as centuries passed. (Spoilers for T:TDW)


Yesterday chaos had wreaked sudden and viciously through the normally glimmering-now very much on fire and falling to ruins regal city in the realm of Asgard. Woman, child, man, warrior, and animal alike, had all been at the mercy of the Dark Elves that marched through, leaving a path of destruction and death in their wake. At any other moment the cloaked figure would've been basking in the glow of disarray that surrounded her, vengeance and justice all at once, but she had a task at hand with no time to waste.

The previous day she had marched alongside the Dark Elves and it was no laughing matter, in fact, the fighting and killing of a Dark Elf was nothing to laugh at either, she'd never met such a difficult opponent to fell. But she had done so and stripped it of its armour and adorned it herself, she strode hard and determined with them, only to catch them off guard. One or two at a time, she would pick them from the back of a group and dispose of them in as quick a manner as she could. They had these odd sort of guns, but she possessed hundreds of years of skill with her javelin that far outweighed their gunfire accuracy. She fought and fought until her cover was blown, she tore the mask away from her face when it was ultimately a hindrance and she no longer needed to conceal her identity. Fighting and fighting for Asgard just as fiercely as she would have a thousand years ago, though her original intention for returning to the realm was far different than defending her former home, and very present in the back of her mind.

The Dark Elves eventually retreated, but the battle was hardly near to won.

She now strode with purpose through the kingdom, until she entered those familiar halls that housed the All Father, his kin, and court. She stole away quickly through the pillaged palace, like a shadow around corners and down the long stair way leading to the dungeons, sidestepping rubble and corpses along the way. She may not have been rooting for Asgardian's but there were a select few that she would feel rather painfully for should they have met their demise during this war. One of those few had fallen the day previous, and that was a difficult day indeed.

The dungeons were completely barren, their impenetrable casings broken and shattered all over the floor. She tread carefully, though her boots would not fail her should a rogue shard try to best her. All cells empty save for one that contained a solitary figure. He sat comfortably on his lounging chair, book poised in hand, but she knew better, she knew far better than that. But she wouldn't approach with grim tidings, she would approach as she normally would, just as she used to with cheer and adoration.

"Fear not, lover mine, your savior has arrived!" she crowed quietly, though she had not passed any stationed guards, she did not want to rouse anyone's curiosity; Asgard had seen enough death for a millennia.

When he did not budge from his position she stepped nearer to the glass that encased him, she could sense the magic working furiously from within, she saw the minute flicker of the conjury ready to fall (he was a master of his craft, but around her, there was always that instant of quiver in show whenever she was around, like he couldn't bear to hide himself from her). Crouching down and pressing her palm flat against it, she looked the figure knowing that it was not truly the man it replicated, "My love, do not present this farce to me. I know what happened to your - to the Lady Frigga," she corrected herself, though still unsure if she was precise in her choice of words, "I attended her funeral. I am truly sorry for your loss, but we must make haste." This _was_ a rescue, after all.

The facade fell away. The presentable Loki that had sat unperturbed upon a chair, within his orderly cell disappeared, and the true god, in all his distress, anger and mourning was shown. She was right in her sense of where he truly sat, against the wall, not three feet from her. If it weren't for the damnable glass she could reach out to him, go to him and offer comfort, though no amount of warmth would sooth him unlike revenge. "Reginleif," he murmured her name, his voice harsh, no doubt from screaming his fury. She offered a small smile at his acknowledgment, fingers shifting against the glass, desperate to touch. "After all this time... Still a harlequin true of heart, avid on saving the damned husk of a god of tricks. I would've thought I was slain to be visited by you, valkryie... or blessed."

"After all this time and forever after that," she swore. Many would say they were an odd coupling. Having grown up in the same halls, children of royalty and power. Knowing she was destined to a life that centered around the choosing and delivering of mortal warrior's souls from Midgard to Valhalla, it was only assumed she would find eternal companionship with one of the einherjar - the heroes she had selected - as was common among her sisters. But no, the young valkyrie favoured a different being's company, always finding time to answer to the young Asgardian Prince's call, and likewise, he to her summoning.

It was found even stranger that she should still be enamoured with the god when his true lineage was revealed; that he was of Jotunheim, King Laufey's abandoned son. And even stranger after that, that she stayed true when she was banned from Valhalla for her alliance with her beloved and forced to aid the heroes of Midgard until she regained the trust of Odin and the other gods.

For centuries she was banished, unable to return to her home realm, even by means other than the Bifrost until the Convergence allowed her passage again. For a time she had wondered if Loki had forgotten her, had deemed her lost, until the day he appeared on Midgard. His presence was one she felt immediately even when there were continents between them, and his reign of terror with the Chitauri was a force that rippled across oceans. They did not find each other that time, engaged with rendering the entirety of the Midgardian race to its knees, and aiding those heroic few who fought determinedly against subjugation, though they were painfully and hopelessly aware of the other.

Needless to say, this was not how she had envisioned their reuniting. A thick cage of enchanted, impenetrable glass separating them with the air of imminent destruction of the nine realms hanging above their heads.

"How do you propose to free me from this cell, then, Regin?"

There was a pleased little tingle at the base of her spine at the sound of that nickname, far too many years had passed without hearing his voice truly real and not simply in her memories. Disheveled though he may be, she still desired him a great deal, and when given the opportunity he would know just how much she had longed for him, and he for her. Her hand slid down the glass with a slight screech, "Eeeeh," she hummed, chewing on her lower lip for a moment, "I was hoping you might have insight on that bit of mechanics."

His laughter echoed joyfully, though muffled through his entrapment, "Oh, my darling and your half formed schemes."

"Perhaps you might remember that I was never one for scheming," she glared playfully, momentarily recalling every darkened hour meeting in secluded corridors and gardens. It was always Loki who would magic something up as a distraction so they might sneak away unseen, or talk their way out of trouble, those days when they were younger and their strains nothing compared to what they would face in the future, what they faced today. Reginleif raised herself from crouching and stood tall again, finger tapping against the barrier and studying the rippling magic that surfaced and faded, "But these cells appear to be not nearly as strong as one might think," given the destruction of the rest of the cells, "A good jab might do the trick," she muttered mostly to herself as she produced her javelin from within her cloak and hit a notch nearer to the top that released a sharpened pike.

Just as Loki was about to detest to what would be her futile attempts at breaking down his cage wall another voice entered, booming softly in warning, "I would not try that, my lady valkyrie."

Reginleif startled out of her defensive position, finding her back pressed against the glass, unoccupied hand splayed palm flat on the glass as well. From behind her she could dully sense movement, and a flickering tickle against her fingertips. "Thor," she addressed as cordially as possible, though her heart thundered heavily in her chest.

"Though you threaten treason on many levels, Reginleif, you shall not fear consequence from me. I merely come bearing a proposition," the god said.

Regin glanced down in relief, and unconsciously - in a matter of course learned over a number of centuries - in respect and gratitude. She noticed through the glass, pressed just in the same place where her hand was, on the opposite side, Loki's palm. So immersed was she in the almost feeling of her lover's touch again that she did not hear a single word spoken between the gods until Loki murmured in his usual playful tone, "When do we start?"

.

It was with a practice of astonishing self control that both God of Mischief and valkyrie could walk side by side with just the barest brush between fingers and nothing else. Though bodies and minds screamed to be familiar again, they refrained, after all, it was the end of all the nine realms as they knew it; it would do no good to let the universe end when they could do something about, then, after all was settled and saved, they could sate their desires until the next century.

With Regin charged with stalling Asgardian soldies alongside Volstagg and Lady Sif, Thor, Loki and the Aether infected human would board the Dark Elven ship within the palace to escape and find passage to Svartalfheim.

It was then, though, as their first steps of the plan lurched into motion that the trickster god could no longer contain himself. With Regin void of cloak, dressed simply in her armour, javelin appearing as just a staff in hand, she was unceremoniously shoved to the nearest wall, stumbling until her back pressed into stone, and her lover pressed himself firmly against her. No longer had a mere second passed after she found herself between a hard place and a god for her to catch her breath and find her bearings was Loki's mouth slotted against hers. Their first joining of lips in centuries had brought about a relief that was not quite like anything else. But his teeth and tongue were eager to be reintroduced again. The soft caress of his lips faltered to give way to his tongue sliding along the inside of her plush lower lip, teeth catching the delicate, pliable flesh and pulling ever so slightly to elicit a gasp from her, as well as a shiver that stemmed from the base of her spine and shook her down to her toes, the back of her neck and the tips of her fingers. Her own hands dove into his lengthy hair, fingers curling around the ebony locks to tug just so in hopes of drawing a grunt or groan from him; while his hands roved over every curve of her body her armour would allow him. Like a well learned map in the back of his mind he remembered just where to touch, just where to brush, just where to hold to pull more of those tiny gasps from her, just enough that would part her lips for his tongue to gain entrance and glide along to taste her.

It was longer than they could afford, but not nearly enough to satiate them. Thor grumbled for Loki to pack it in, they had a task ahead of them.

Loki pulled away, gasping, heated breath mingling with hers between them. He took the moment to look into her eyes, something he hadn't the pleasure of doing in a long while, it had been one of his favourite pass times, and now he couldn't even spare the briefest moment to properly enjoy. The darkness of her irises nearly blending in with pupil, staring in long enough he could see small glimmers here and there, like hidden starlight greeting him lovingly, like the fathomless, beautiful void of space so easily be lost in, but now was not the time. He leaned forward, mouth pressed against the shell of her ear, hot breath raising goosebumps on her flesh, "I will return. Know this. Trust my love, do not doubt it," he whispered.

When his eyes met hers again he saw the recognition within before she minutely nodded her head in understanding. There was a flicker of something despondent, but he reinforced his statement with another long caress of lips, and a lingering embrace.

Thor eventually had to split them apart, keeping both himself and Jane between the the Jotun prince and the valkyrie, they were on a time table, any wasted second could make or break this scheme.

Upon reaching the ship Reginleif clasped her hand with Loki's, squeezing briefly, communicating without the use of words, and knowing he received her expression completely and understood. Thor and his human boarded the ship, and Loki was close behind, his fingers reluctantly pulling free from Regin's hold. Their fingers tips brushed and they were no longer together. She nodded to him once more, hitting that notch of her staff, producing the pike of her javelin before turning around and taking a defensive stance beside Volstagg as a number of Asgardian guards converged upon them.

The Dark Elven ship crashed through columns and scraped on the floor and ceiling before finally blasting out of the palace and into the open air space of Valhalla.

Volstagg and Regin were eventually overwhelmed and seized by the guards. But while Sif, Volstagg and eventually Fandral were released from confinement, the valkyrie was left to solitary detention in dungeons. Her only comfort brought solely by Loki's promise repeated in her mind, sounding just as real and sure as he had spoken it to her. Then there was a pain unlike anything she had ever felt in all her thousand years, but still, she did not doubt; just as he told her, she kept her faith strong, willing her own power to soothe and mend whatever it was that was causing her such devastation. The agony lessened and lessened until she found no physical ache within herself, but distantly there was still a slight twinging throb. She smiled faintly, sighing under her breath, "I have no doubt, my love."

.

In the days that followed Regin's faith didn't waver, she barely even moved from her spot situated against the wall of her cell, comfortably curled with her arms around her legs that were drawn up to her chest and her head rested against her knees. She startled hard when a voice called, "The All Father has ordered your release. He's requested your presence before the throne." And a moment later the walls of her cell disappeared and the guards standing outside waited until she stood and wobbled out to guide her to the grand hall that was still in a state of wreckage, in desperate need of repair.

There was a flutter in her chest as they drew nearer. The guards slowed and bowed their heads to the God of Thunder as he approached. Regin bowed her head and raised her fist to her chest, looking up again she made sure to smother away that fluttery feeling, painting a look of sorrow onto her features.

Thor offered a glimpse of a sad smile, placing his large paw on her shoulder, "I am truly sorry, Lady Reginleif."

"As am I, Odinson. As am I," she murmured, casting her face downward again.

Thor gave her shoulder a final squeeze and pat before glancing to her guards and taking his leave. Regin did her best to hide her smirk, keeping her gaze down and slumping her shoulders forward.

Odin sat upon the throne, Gungnir in hand, looking down his nose upon the guards and the prisoner they brought in tow. "Leave us," he commanded. The guards bowed and hastily exited the room, and no longer than the moment they were out of ear shot did Odin speak again, "Reginleif, former Valkyrie of Valhalla, I hereby disband your exile."

Regin raised her gaze, the smirk growing ever wider as her eyes landed upon the flickering glamour of the All Father upon the throne. The flutter in her chest transformed into a full blown thundering, when the illusion faded and Loki sat upon the throne elevated before her, grinning cheekily, proudly. She inclined her head, moving into a curtsy, "And how would I serve you, my king?"

When she stood up straight again she found her mischievous god in front of her, shifting the spear into his other hand, and bringing his fingers to touch beneath her chin. She looked up at him, a mild smile on her mouth, basking in the attention he lavished upon her; it had been so long. Between his thumb and forefinger he gripped her chin, his thumb straying away along her jaw and against her cheekbone, his eyes following the trail he traced before they caught hers, "What is a king without his queen?" a new grin split his mouth, growing bright and big, disappearing only when Reginleif raised herself to the tip toes of her boots to claim his lips with hers.

Whatever he should do, wherever she should go, one would not be without the other. Whatever one should say, the other would agree. Years and years and years of lessons and memories, he knew this was something he could not do alone; for he would be nothing without her, she who never gave up on him. His valkyrie, his love, his queen.

"Long live the king..."

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Note: This little piece was (obviously) inspired by Thor: The Dark World; immediately after leaving the cinema the part of someone waltzing into the dungeons and saying "Fear not, lover mine, your savior has arrived!" popped into my head, and I said, well shit, I guess I'm writing that. Anyway, The Dark World did not disappoint, but poor Mjolnir trying to keep up with Thor, hah!  
Another big inspiration for this story would be Depeche Mode's song I Feel You, for which the title of this story is from; the entire song sets a good mood for this little shot, I think.

And now for a short explanation of the OC. I wanted to use to a being from Norse legend and I found the valkyrie, and then I found Reginleif. From what (little) information I found it is explained that she was banished to Midgard, for what reason I'm not sure - she had dealings in the forging of Thor's second hammer after Loki destroyed the first - she was largely based on Midgard assisting heroes - she had the ability to heal her allies, and wielded a javelin.  
So with that information in mind I put my own little spin on it.  
And with my tendency to suck at drawn out fics, I thought this little one shot ought to do the trick to cease that internal nagging in my head to write something Loki related.  
Hopefully it is found enjoyable.


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